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Monday, February 20, 2017

Hummm….the truth is, I am nerd enough to
think history is fun. All the little facts and laws from centuries ago have always
fascinated me. My parents were always listening to me expound on some little
bit of wonderment…aka…historical fact.

Working these little facts into my work is
something I try to do because I believe it’s important to write a book, set in
the time it is dated. It was a different time and I think that adds spice to
the unfolding romance. Life wasn’t fair then and it isn’t now. There is nothing
I love more than to set out to see a couple overcome the odds and live happily
ever after.

At least I love it when it’s finished! When
I’m in that bottom of the ninth inner point, it’s hair pulling time as I try
and work things out. Yes, I know I’m the author and should know these things
but honestly, these characters have minds of their own!

I hope you all enjoy Highland Vixen. 2017
hold three titles from my Highland Brides and yes, I make you wait for that
moment when it all comes together but they are all brides after all.

Marcus MacPherson is every
inch the fearsome Highlander. He’s used to men averting their eyes and women
cowering before him. He thinks he’ll eventually settle down with a nice,
obedient bride. Instead, he gets Helen Grant… Stubborn as the day is long,
fearless and dedicated to raising as much hell as possible, Helen is definitely
going to challenge Marcus. And challenge him some more. And then some.

MacPherson Castle was huge. It needed to be,
because there were over three hundred retainers alone. When supper was laid out
on the tables, their conversation echoed through the stone corridors. But that
didn’t stop a woman’s scream from penetrating the chatter. Men came off their
benches, their kilts flipping aside as they started toward the back stairwell
where the sound had come from.

What stopped them was their War Chief,
Marcus MacPherson, coming through the wide arched passageway. He had a woman
with him who wasn’t pleased to be his captive.

“What are ye doing?” Shamus MacPherson
demanded from his seat at the high table.

“Uncovering a deception,” Marcus replied to
his father and laird. He set the woman in front of the MacPherson laird. “Helen
and Brenda are no longer in this keep. Ailis has kept to her chamber to deceive
us all into thinking Helen and Brenda were there with her. While this one”—he
pointed at the girl—“has made sure no one saw her face to notice the game.”

Shamus dropped his knife and looked at the
girl. Her eyes widened. “I did as I was told by me mistress.” She lowered
herself awkwardly.

He snorted at her in reprimand. “Allowing
her to act foolishly and leave the protection of this stronghold is no’ to be
commended, girl. Ye lack the sense to be a personal servant to me
daughter-by-marriage.”

The girl paled, shaking like a dried-out
leaf in a wind storm.

Shamus grunted and waved her away before
turning to his other son. “Best ye go discover what yer wife has been about
this last week.”

Bhaic MacPherson was already pushing his
chair back. There was a grim set to his jaw as he moved behind the other chairs
and down the steps to where his half brother was glowering at him.

“With child or no, that wife of yers needs a
reckoning,” Marcus growled.

Bhaic stopped in the passageway, just out of
sight of the rest of the clan. “She is with child, so ye’ll manage yer temper
or no’ be seeing her.”

Marcus crossed his arms over his chest and
grinned at his brother. Bhaic grunted, recognizing the promise in the
expression. No one liked a fight better than Marcus, except perhaps Bhaic.

“I mean to have words with her, Brother,”
Marcus warned Bhaic. “And they will nae be kind.”

“If ye truly want to frighten Ailis, speak
nicely to her.”

Marcus grunted and took to the stairs. Bhaic
reached up and pulled him back by the shoulder.

“Helen may well be in the hands of the
Gordons, thanks to this deception. Ye killed Lye Rob, and they would take great
delight in paying us back in blood.” Marcus shot back at his brother. “Brenda
and Helen could no’ have more than half a dozen men with them.”

Bhaic’s face tightened. “I know ye’re right
to be angry, Brother.” He passed Marcus and took to the stairs. He offered his
wife a single rap on the door of their chamber before he pushed it in and
Marcus followed him.

Ailis Robertson was waiting for them. She
stood in the center of the receiving room, ready to face them. Damn, but Marcus
loved her spirit, even when it was at odds with what he thought she should be
doing with all that strength of character.

“Ailis…” Bhaic began.

“I’ve deceived ye,” she stated. “I’ve been
pretending to be more ill than I am, so the women could stay with me and no’ be
seen.”

“Ye know very well how the Gordons treat
their captives.” Marcus pointed at her. “Did ye no’ think of what might happen
to Helen and Brenda if they tried to ride across the Highlands with naught but
a handful of men?”

She paled. Bhaic reached forward and gripped
her forearm, but she sucked in a breath and steadied herself.

Marcus snorted at her. “How long have they
been gone?”

“Four days.”

Marcus was gripping his sleeves so tightly
his knuckles popped. “Where did they go?”

“To court, to seek shelter from Brenda’s
kin.”

“Court.” Marcus spat the word out like a
curse. “Right into the hands of the Earl of Morton. Ye might recall how that
man treats women he thinks can be of use.”

Ailis stiffened. “I do.”

Marcus grunted at her before he purposefully
turned on his heel and left the chamber, the longer pleats of his kilt flaring
out behind him.

Acclaimed
author Mary Wine has written over 30 works of Scottish Highland
romance, romantic suspense and erotic romance. An avid history-buff and
historical costumer, she and her family enjoy participating in historical
reenactments. Mary lives in Yorba Linda, California with her husband and two
sons.

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